


Mischief and Magic

by evisionarts



Series: Road Tripping [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fox Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapping, M/M, Mages, Magic, Wolf Derek Hale, Wolf Erica Reyes, Wolf Vernon Boyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evisionarts/pseuds/evisionarts
Summary: Derek was annoyed. How could such a tiny ball of floof be so aggravating? He had never scowled his way through so many arguments in his life. Not even with Laura. And since she was a very bossy big sister who took great delight in terrorizing her little brother that was really saying something.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Series: Road Tripping [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843468
Comments: 7
Kudos: 239





	Mischief and Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the Skitter and Snarl universe. It might not make much sense without reading that one first. OK it still might not make sense but these two do whatever they want wherever they want. I just write it down.

Derek was annoyed. How could such a tiny ball of floof be so aggravating? He had never scowled his way through so many arguments in his life. Not even with Laura. And since she was a very bossy big sister who took great delight in terrorizing her little brother that was really saying something.

He missed her. So much. 

But that – that wasn’t what this was about. This was about that sarcastic little shit of a fox and how Derek was going to rip his throat out. With his teeth. Just as soon as he was done picking junie berries. For Stiles. Because he constantly whined about how tired he was of rabbit – the rabbit Derek always did all the work to catch by the way – and had mentioned in passing how much he missed the stupid berries. 

So here Derek was – in the middle of the forest clutching a sack of bright purple berries, his shirt splattered with juice and his hands still healing from reaching through needle tipped leaves – and he was going to die. He was going to die for a mangy fox who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and Stiles wasn’t even going to know what happened to him. It was very unfair.

Because Derek was surrounded by three grinning men with very large guns and a magic worker clutching a ball of blue fire and he didn’t think he could take all of them before succumbing to blood loss and enchanted flames. 

Part of him wanted this fight. He wanted to go down clawing and screaming for his mom, his pack, his alpha. He wanted it to be over. But somewhere a loud mouthed fox was waiting for him to come back and Derek had the feeling Stiles would never stop looking for him and he’d probably die trying and well. That wasn’t ok.

So he hesitated. And of course then it was too late. The men with the guns grinned wider and the magic worker smirked and suddenly he was surrounded by blue and he was screaming anyway because it was unbearable heat and the voices of his dead family begging and pleading with him to save them until everything went black. 

Coming to was not fun. Everything hurt and an annoying voice was growling in his ear.

“Hey! Hey man wake up.” Derek snarled as the scent of another wolf surrounded him, and then someone punched his shoulder with enough force to make him gasp. “Open your eyes sleeping beauty or I’m leaving you.”

Derek had the perpetrator underneath him by the throat in an instant. His assailant was a large, heavily muscled brown-skinned werewolf dressed in worn out clothes. 

The guy rolled his eyes and raised his hands in surrender. “Hey man, no offense, but we really need to move before management gets here. Trust me you don’t want to meet them before you have to.”

Derek scowled but sat back anyway. “Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I? What the fuck!”

The man leveled an exasperated look. “Call me Boyd – just outside of the shitty little town of Shackleford – the Mage and her band of merry men trapped you just like the rest of us – and we’re both screwed if we’re not up and working like ten minutes ago.”

“Hey! Boyd - you still in there,” a frantic voice hissed from outside, “Hurry up! They’re coming this way!”

“And that’s our cue,” Boyd said, warily climbing to his feet. “Oh one more thing. What do we call you?”

Derek frowned and crossed his arms, spitting his reply out through gritted teeth. “Derek.”

“Yeah I don’t like you either,” Boyd sighed, “Follow my lead anyway, we can kill each other later.”

Derek followed Boyd outside and down a narrow alleyway between muddy and patched canvas tent walls.

Boyd ducked inside the one at the end of the row. He broke into a gentle smile as a blonde wolf looked up from sewing together a rip in her dress and grinned.

Boyd narrowed his eyes. “Derek, this is Erica. Be nice to her.”

“Oooh look at you sweet cheeks!” Erica clapped her hands in delight at meeting a new arrival. “You’re wasted behind the scenes. But then we all are.”

Derek scowled. “What the hell is this place?”

Boyd shrugged. “Look around you. It’s a labor camp. We’re the labor.”

Derek’s eyed them both as if they were insane. “They kidnap werewolves to work in a camp?!”

“Just do what you’re told,” Boyd told him, “They’ll leave you alone for the most part.”

“Yeah,” Erica said darkly, “Until the day they don’t.”

A scowling man clutching a rifle peered through the tent opening. “What the hell is going on in here? Boyd take the new grunt to the pile with you and get to work or I’ll have both your hides!”

Boyd didn’t look the man in the eye. “Yes sir. Sorry sir, we’re on our way.”

The man spat. “You damn well better be, you useless pieces of werewolf shit. One more slip up and I’ll put all three of you at the top of the list you hear me?” He stepped back, raising his gun and muttering to himself about mangy wolves getting what’s coming to them.

“What list?” Derek raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“Sssh not here dumbass,” Boyd hissed, “we can talk on the pile, they won’t follow us there.”

Erica winked, set down her needle and thread, and strode outside. Boyd followed, pushing Derek ahead of him. A group of grim men, all armed, awaited them.

Erica raised her head and favored them with a malicious smile as she marched with an exaggerated swagger, heading for a clearing just beyond the last tent wall, Derek and Boyd falling in step behind her.

A dense fog hung over the space, the stench of rotting things filtering through the murky air.

Erica strode into the area confidently, without stopping. Derek balked, stopping to watch as she disappeared into the gray. 

Boyd sighed and gave Derek’s shoulder a brief squeeze, looking back at the sullen men behind them. One grinned with missing teeth and raised his rifle, cocking the trigger. “Look man, just follow me and watch your step. You never know what you’ll find in here.”

A gun barrel prodding his back made up Derek’s mind and he followed Boyd into the putrid cloud.

He could barely see Boyd’s figure up ahead as the ground turned unstable, shifting beneath his feet. He was treading on piles of … something … was it a trash heap? He reached down and picked up a piece of it, trying to make out the edges of it in the gloom. Once he realized, he dropped it with a shudder. That was a bone. And it wasn’t an animal. Derek knew what a person’s bones looked liked, he’d seen enough of them in the war.

Nothing shocked Derek anymore but he was unsettled. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with him but this time was different. He felt disturbed, as if he’d left a part of himself back where the edge of this thing began.

The bones underneath his feet cracked and swayed and he shivered through the thrum of a sad low groan. 

Boyd appeared beside him, shoving him along. “Keep moving!” “It’s harder for them to take hold, just keep moving.”

“Move your feet,” Boyd growled, “keep stirring it up. Whatever you do, don’t stop!”

Derek did as he was told, fighting the feelings of despair that pulled at him, dividing him up until he felt the space between his atoms as they were measured and taken apart one tiny piece at a time. The rest of the world shrank until it became a dream and all that was left was the need to keep his feet moving, to never stop.

“What is this?” He choked out, stumbling into Boyd, who grunted and kept him from falling.

“They call it the pile,” Boyd answered, “We get sent out every day to move it around, mix it up. They let us go back to the tents at night.”

“But why?” Derek peered into the darkness, trying to make out Boyd’s grim face, “What happens if we don’t?”

Boyd shrugged, “They shoot you for one thing. And don’t be an idiot. They know we’re wolves, and they’ve got the right ammo.”

“No,” Derek hissed through gritted teeth, “What happens to the pile?”

“You don’t want to know,” Boyd replied, looking everywhere but in Derek’s direction.

“Just tell me!” Derek snarled.

Boyd sighed, “This thing gets … hungry … it helps to keep it moving but after a while stirring it up isn’t enough, they have to feed it.”

Boyd huffed out a harsh laugh, “Guess who’s dinner.”

Derek wasn’t sure what his face looked like but Boyd’s tone softened a bit. “Look, they had a feeding just before you showed up. We’ve got at least a month before they need to do it again.”

“But what is it for? Why don’t they just blow it up? What are they getting out of it?” Derek growled in frustration.

“There’s a mage.” Boyd answered.

Derek scowled. Of course there was a mage. There was always a fucking mage, or wizard, or some asshole drunk on power.

“She gets some kind of … boost out of it, I guess.” Boyd walked around in circles, kicking at the bones. “She lights up like a feast day bonfire, while the wolves she took fade and crumble into this.”

Boyd didn’t say much after that.

Derek had no idea how long they were there, but eventually Erica appeared in front of them, grinning wildly, as if she refused to let the horror of this place beat her down. “Come on, they’re calling us back, we can go now.”

Derek followed the other wolves to the edge of the pile, finally emerging into weak sunlight. Their guards laughed and cat-called as he slid to his knees. A hesitant hand touched his shoulder for a moment and drew back.

“The first time is the hardest.” Erica soothed.

Boyd snorted. “Don’t lie to him. Every time is the hardest.”

“I know.” She said softly.

“Come on,” Boyd said, not unkindly, as he kicked Derek’s foot. “Get up or we won’t get food before the service.”

They plodded back to Erica’s tent. Bowls of cold, suspicious looking stew were waiting for them, along with the hard crusts of days old bread. Erica and Boyd slurped theirs down as if they hadn’t been given a decent meal in months. Maybe they hadn’t.

Derek was too hungry not to join in, grimacing at the taste but forcing it down. Who knew when they would get more?

Soon after they were herded back outside and forced to walk back toward the pile.

Derek recognized the magic worker from his capture, standing by the edge and raising her arms to the sky. She closed her eyes and chanted what sounded like an often repeated story to her silent witnesses. 

"I am Duanna, keeper of justice, both hand and fist. Listen to me oh wolves. Rejoice in your salvation. I know the stain you carry and soon you will be cleansed of it forever."

Derek couldn't help thinking of bathing in the river with his brothers and sisters, his mother and father laughing and dodging splashes on the shore.

The mage continued, her eyes glazed and feverish. "She walks alone but not alone along the path that night. The moon is full and shining and she is too deep in thought to pay attention to the sounds inherent to the darkness as they fall silent. She remembers her father lost in the war. She mourns her mother gone last winter to sickness and grief. She thinks of her sister stirring a pot by the fire in their tiny cottage. She only wants to go home."

Derek is surprised that home does not immediately bring forth a memory of the sprawling house he grew up in. It starts with teasing laughter and flashes of red fur. He frowns.

Duanna glared in his direction as if she knew he wasn’t listening. "She doesn't hear the beast. She doesn't see the clawed fingers that touch her where they had no right. She doesn't have time to scream."

Duanna traced figures in the air. A sick, blue glow seeped from the pile behind her tendrils reaching for her outstretched hands. An eerie wail filled the night as the light wrapped around her. She seemed to grow larger and clearer as the light flickered and dimmed.

Duanna threw back her head and roared. "She is a woman! She is a mage! She knows only one way to stop this. Not only from happening to her but to anyone ever again. She knows what she must do. She takes. And takes. She opens her mind, frees her magic from the constraints of her body and holds nothing back. She takes until there is nothing left of the monster or the maiden but the last word on her fading breath. Wolf."

"Her sister falls to her knees by the fire and echoes that word, knowing she is now alone." Duanna pointed at the silent wolves. Electricity dripped from her fingertips, currents of power so strong it forced the wolves to trip back only to be stopped by the guards at their backs.

The witch clapped her hands and smiled brightly. "But we are not here for revenge. We are here to find redemption. I will save you from the animal within. I will draw it out of you and set all of us free. We all must embrace the pain before we can find and nourish the spark."

Derek sighed at his luck and his life. "She's bat-shit." He murmured.

"Yeah." Boyd and Erica breathed in tandem.

The hours turned into days and then weeks. Every morning Boyd kicked Derek out of his nest of dirty blankets. They picked up Erica and headed for the pile, guns prodding at their backs. Each step was a little harder, a little slower. Derek felt like a weight pressed in on him at all sides. He saw his despair mirrored in the faces of the other wolves, and he wondered if his own eyes were as dull, his cheeks as hollow. Every second on the pile took something from them and even if they broke free he wasn’t sure they would get it back.

One night Derek dreamed of a red fox. They ran together through the forest, leaping through the leaves, drunk on crisp morning air. Derek woke and stumbled out of the tent, still half asleep. He heard his name repeated on the wind, a familiar laughing voice calling him out. 

He made it as far as the edge of the tents, where a row of jagged rocks encircled the camp. He tripped over them and howled in pain as invisible blades tore at his flesh. He fought his way forward but the edges of his vision turned dark and he dropped to the ground. The next day he was back in the tent, Boyd shaking him awake.

“I could have told you that would happen,” Boyd said, “That fucking mage built a barrier - keeps shifters from getting in or out of the camp. She’s the only one that can let you through.”

“Then why didn’t you say something?!” Derek snarled.

Boyd shrugged, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of sympathy. 

“Would it have stopped you trying?” He countered, “It didn’t stop me.”

They spent that day on the pile like they always did. Erica slipped him an extra spoonful of stew at dinner. Derek wanted to cry. Boyd shook his head but didn’t say anything.

That night they were kicked awake by grinning guards.

“Get up you mangy curs! Its time to be saved!”

The men laughed as Boyd and Derek climbed to their feet.

Derek bared his teeth and shifted until one of the men swung his gun against Boyd’s head. “Go ahead wolf, die knowing you killed your friend here first.”

Boyd stood calmly, watching the other wolf with resigned eyes.

Derek sheathed his claws. He stepped forward and offered Boyd his hand. They walked down the row together, the guards behind them jeering and cat calling. Erica was standing outside her tent, two armed men at her back. She sighted Derek and Boyd, her eyes dropping to their clasped palms and grinned. They both reached for her, pulling her into the middle and all three walked to the pile with fingers entwined.

Duanna was waiting for them, her lips stretched wide in a parody of a benevolent smile. “Come to me, oh wolves, that we may make you whole again!”

“I’d feel a lot more whole with my skin and organs intact, bitch!” Erica retorted.

Duanna threw back her head and laughed. “Such spirit, even after all this time! You will taste especially sweet tonight!”

Erica’s fangs lengthened as she shook her hands free and unleashed her claws. 

Duanna’s voice turned to ice. “Try anything and I make you watch me drag the life from the other two for days instead of seconds. Then I’ll gut your will and leave you a broken vessel, slave to my every whim.”

Her smile turned sly. “I can grant you a clean death, little wolf, free you of your burdens, redeem your soul. Or I can make you my pet. You choose.”

Boyd swung an arm around Erica’s waist, pulling her close. “It’s alright, love, we’ll be ok. In this world or the next, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Oh my gods, Derek you made friends and they’re awesome!” A familiar voice rang through the clearing, seeming to come at them from all sides.

“Stiles?” Derek breathed out.

“Who the hell are you!” The mage screamed, “How dare you interrupt the sacred rites!”

Stiles ignored her. “Hey sourwolf! I can’t believe you ran out on me dude!”

Derek bristled. “I didn’t run out on you! And don’t call me dude!”

The guards spun around frantically, trying to identify the source of the voice. The mage turned to the pile and began a low chant, her fingers weaving intricate sigils into the cool evening air.

“How did you find me?” Derek called.

Stiles laughed. “Oh man, these idiots didn’t even try hiding their tracks. They practically left road signs all over the forest. Plus I’d recognize your signature eau du Wolfman anywhere.”

“What?” Derek raised an eyebrow. He could practically hear Stiles flailing.

“Um, it doesn’t matter,” Stiles replied quickly, “let’s just concentrate on getting you out of here.”

The mage’s voice grew louder, and a glowing blue mist began to rise from the pile of bones. A low groan filled the air along with an increasing series of echoing cracks. The wolves shivered, gun barrels at their backs.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” Derek muttered.

A shower of sparks rained down on the mage breaking her from her reverie. “How dare you!” she screamed, “Guards! Find the intruder and kill him! We allow no heretics here!”

“Just crazy ass, sadistic mages with god complexes,” Stiles taunted, “Come find me. I dare you.”

The mage’s face flushed red with rage. “I am the authority here! I command the dead to rise and unbelievers shall be consumed in flame!”

The mist resolved into ghostly faces and contorted bodies, fangs bared, saliva dripping from twisted lips.

“Yeah, I was never good with authority,” Stiles replied and began a low murmuring chant of his own.

It was different from the mage’s, quiet yet powerful, and the air turned fresh and sweet, cleansed and pure. The mage shrank back in alarm as the faces in the mist became clearer, resolving into a pack of restless wolves, limbs uncurling until they were straight and true. The expressions on their faces relaxed and they howled in a joyful chorus, leaping and prancing around her in an ever closing circle.

Duanna screamed. “You must obey! I turned you into dust and dust you shall remain! Go back! Leave me alone and I’ll free you I swear it! Guards, do something, stop them!”

But the guards stood like flies caught in amber, eyes wide, completely silent and still. Erica reached out and knocked one over.

The shades paid no heed to the ranting, drifting ever nearer until Duanna was entirely engulfed in a blue glow. A whine escaped her as she shrank and curled in on herself, skin crumbling away, then organs and finally bones until nothing was lift but a gritty, gray powder in a heap on the ground. 

“I don’t know what the hell a Stiles is,” Boyd glanced at Derek, “But I like him.”

“He’s a pain in the ass,” Derek admitted, “But he’s good at escape plans.”

Stiles emerged from the shadows, his eyes dancing with mischief and a smirking tilt to his mouth. “Well, well, well, Sourwolf - kidnapped by a mage and almost eaten by enslaved ghost wolves.”

“Who thinks of that?” Stiles muttered in a distracted tone, “Do they teach that in mage school? Do mages even have schools?”

“Stiles …” Derek groaned.

Stiles looked at him and beamed. “That just proves my point. I can’t leave you alone anywhere.”

Derek placed his hands on his hips, looking away to hide a relieved smile. “What took you so long?”

Stiles huffed. “I found you in a day, asshole, it took a little longer to figure out how to get inside.”

Derek frowned at him. “How did you get through the barrier? It was supposed to work on any shifter.”

Stiles puffed out his chest and grinned. “Well wolfy, my man, let’s just say I have extra-super-special skills and shit they weren’t expecting.”

Derek snorted. “I’m sure they weren’t expecting the skills part.” 

“You wound me Derek,” Stiles replied in mock outrage, “Straight to the heart!”

He punched Derek hard in the shoulder and flashed a quick, shy smile. “I really missed your lame attempts at sarcasm. Let’s go.”

“Ow,” Derek stared at him deadpan. “That really hurt.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about.” Stiles said fondly.

Erica sauntered towards them, the sway of her hips exaggerated, the smile on her face sharp. “So where are we going now cutie pies?”

“Who said anything about we?” Derek griped.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh come on Derek we can’t just leave them out here.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “I travel alone.”

Stiles snorted. “You’ve been traveling with me for weeks!”

“You don’t count.” Derek sighed in exasperation.

“Oh gee thanks so much sourwolf,” Stiles retorted, indignation written all over his expressive face.

“That’s not what I meant!” Derek told him, clenching and unclenching his hands in frustration, “It’s dangerous! If there’s too many of us were more likely to be noticed.”

“If there’s more of us we’re less likely to be caught out alone in the woods by psycho mages!” Stiles pointed out.

“That wasn’t my fault!” Derek rounded on him, “If you hadn’t gone on and on about those damn berries …!”

Stiles stared at him in surprise. “Wait, that’s why you were out there so early? You were picking me berries?”

“No, I just …” Derek floundered, “Ok maybe. But that’s not the point!”

“Oh my gods you are such a big soft, squooshy teddy bear!” Stiles laughed gleefully.

“I’ll squoosh you right in the … !” Derek yelled advancing on him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t go with them. That Stiles guy whipped mage ass. ” Boyd said, eyeing the squabbling pair ahead of them.

“Are you kidding?” Erica clapped her hands together grinning widely. “That’s exactly why we should go with them.”

They watched as their mighty rescuer tripped over a tree root, only avoiding a face plant by Derek’s quick reaction in grabbing his shirt and hauling him back against his chest. They briefly clung, then skittered away, looking everywhere but at each other

“Oh my gods,” Erica breathed, “This is going to be the best show ever!”


End file.
